Live and Let Pie Read online

  “Nah. I’m over it, but this will get your blood pumping.” He finished off the heavily caffeinated drink with Irish cream. “You’ll bust through those resumes in no time with this.”

  I took the drink. It smelled divine, but I had a feeling if I polished off half of it I would be buzzing for days. “Thanks. I think.”

  Andy turned up the overhead music. I cradled the coffee cup, placed the file of resumes under one arm, and ducked under the plastic tarp to check on progress. The resumes could wait for a minute. I wanted to see how the renovations were going and take a little break from thinking about whom to hire.

  The crew had already left for the day, but from the look of things they had definitely made some gains. An iron railing had been installed to the roughed-in stairs. Mom and I had gone back and forth about carpeting the stairs versus using the versatile, waterproof laminate flooring we had installed in the basement. We ultimately decided on the laminate. Carpet might have had a sound-dampening effect but since we would constantly be bringing trays of pastries, soups, and sandwiches up and down the stairs, laminate was much more practical.

  I placed my coffee cup on the floor and tested the top of the railing. It felt solid. There were still sections of Sheetrock that needed to be patched, trim for the windows and door frames was still missing, the flooring for the stairs needed to be installed, and then the new coffee counter and pastry case would be put in place. I hated to get my hopes up, but it was starting to look like we were nearing the finish line.

  There was no time like the present to give them a try, so I grabbed my coffee and balanced it and the resumes in one hand, staying next to the far-left exposed-brick wall and making sure to watch for any protruding nails as I descended into the basement. Having internal access between the kitchen and upstairs was going to be a game changer.

  I took the stack of resumes and Andy’s 411 and set them on the table near the couch. Then I went to get the scoop from everyone on any first impressions they might have had on our candidate pool.

  Sterling was scrubbing the sink with a scouring pad. The kitchen smelled of lavender and lemon cleaner and a faint hint of applewood smoke. Bethany and Steph had packed away their decorating supplies for the night and were updating the whiteboard with tomorrow’s deliveries and special orders.

  “Okay, lay it on me, guys. Did you get a glimpse of any of the candidates? First impressions? Thoughts?”

  Before anyone could answer, Mom peeked out from behind one of the rolling carts.

  “Want some company?” Mom’s walnut eyes flickered with the delight of surprising me. She wore a pair of white capris with matching white clogs that had two bright cherries imprinted on them.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I was thrilled to see her.

  Mom hadn’t been a fixture at Torte of late. Since she and the Professor had returned from a sun-swept honeymoon in Greece, they had been on a mission to find their dream house. She had stopped by a few times to check on renovations and shower our staff with gifts from their trip. She had brought Bethany an oversized scarf handcrafted of silk. The wrap was designed with a print of the Greek god Poseidon in creamy yellows and sea blues. It looked beautiful against Bethany’s skin. She had worn it nearly every day since Mom had returned. For Stephanie Mom brought an old-world recipe book of Greek pastries. Andy received sample bags of Greek coffee, and Sterling a handmade olivewood mortar and pestle.

  She and the Professor had chosen a Greek tapestry picturing the tree of life with stylish blue-and-green leaves and hovering birds for me. “Won’t this look wonderful hanging from the wall of your new home?” she had asked with a sly smile.

  Her house hunting had a direct impact on me, as she had been not-so-subtly hinting for a while that it would be wonderful if I would consider moving into my childhood home. She and the Professor hadn’t found their dream house yet, but I was confident they would soon. Selfishly, I hoped their house hunting would be successful because I missed having Mom around the bakeshop.

  She pointed to the Torte apron tied around her narrow waist. “I needed a break from house hunting and I was lured in by Sterling’s lunch special. I figured if I was already here, I might as well get my hands in some dough.” An antique ring sparkled on her finger.

  “You better be careful with that,” I cautioned. “You don’t want to lose it in the dough.”

  Her eyes lit up when she laughed. “I said that to Doug earlier. It’s been a long time since I wore a wedding ring.” She reached for the simple silver necklace around her neck where she wore her original wedding ring. “I overheard some bits and pieces of your interviews but not enough to have any first impressions.”

  Sterling dried his hands on a towel and untied the apron that he wore folded halfway around his waist. “Me, too. The older guy seemed to have good energy.”

  “Marty,” I offered. “I liked him too. He’s a top contender. A former bread maker from the Bay Area.”

  Steph and Bethany took a break from reviewing the schedule. “I don’t think Andy liked any of the baristas, especially the hippie chick. He was flipping out the whole time she was here.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “Unfortunately, Sequoia—the hippie chick—is highly qualified and made me an amazing latte.”

  “Then hire her,” Stephanie said without emotion.

  “She’s on the top of my list,” I said. Then I glanced around the spotless kitchen. The white countertops gleamed. The mixers had been returned to their places and looked like mirrors reflecting the light from above. “Why don’t you all take off?” I suggested. “I’m going to go over the resumes one last time and can finish up in here later.”

  No one put up a fight. “See you tomorrow, Jules,” Sterling said as he, Steph, and Bethany headed for the exterior stairs. “Try not to wrestle with the chocolate tonight.”

  Mom’s brow furrowed. “Wrestle with chocolate?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  She untied her apron. I noticed the slightest tightness in her jaw as she stretched her fingers after tossing her apron in the laundry bin.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked. She had been diagnosed with early arthritis. So far it hadn’t slowed her pace, but I didn’t want her to overextend herself.

  “Fine.” She laced her fingers together. “There’s some tightness, but honestly I think kneading the bread dough this afternoon was perfect therapy.”

  I raised one brow. “Is that what your doctor said?”

  “Now you sound like Doug.”

  “Good. The Professor is one of the wisest people on the planet. You should listen to him.” I walked toward the seating area and plopped on the empty side of the couch.

  She waved me off and sat in the chair opposite me. “What’s the drink? It has a wonderful scent.”

  “Andy’s special. He calls it the 411. I think he’s trying to knock me out with this one. It’s pretty much caffeine meets caffeine.”

  “That sounds…” Mom paused for a moment. “Intense?”

  “Yeah. It is.” I took a gulp. “But it’s so good I can’t stop drinking it.”

  “Juliet.” Mom shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Help me make a decision on whom to hire.” I handed her a resume.

  “You say that as if you were asking me to pull a tooth.” Her walnut-brown eyes seemed to pierce through me. “When you were talking to the staff it sounded to me like you already know what you want to do.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure. What if I make a mistake? What if whoever we hire doesn’t fit in?”

  “Let’s start there,” Mom said in a calm tone. “Remember, you can’t make a wrong choice. If we give one of the candidates a try and they end up not being a fit, so be it. We can’t know that without trying. Taking on new staff always comes with unknown questions. A one-page resume and thirty-minute interview can only tell us so much. I say go with your gut.”

  She had a special way of framing things and a naturally grounded presence.
Even with the caffeine pulsing through my veins, I felt calmer. “Right, but what about Andy? His reaction to Sequoia was visceral.”

  “That comes with the territory.” Mom glanced upstairs. “Did you know that when I hired Andy I wasn’t sure that he would last more than a couple of weeks?”

  “Really?” I sipped the coffee, trying to pace myself.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I loved him from the moment I met him. His energy, his warmth, his humor. But I wasn’t sure that he was ready for the responsibility. I took a chance on him, and we didn’t have a smooth start. You should have seen him behind the coffee bar in those early weeks. His cheeks were constantly the color of red peppers. He would sweat profusely trying to keep up with the line. He never bantered with the customers. He had to concentrate on watching the machine. Customers complained that the milk was too cold or scalding hot. His workstation was a mess. There were grounds everywhere and stacks of shot glasses.”

  “Are you kidding? Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” I shifted my body position. My back felt tight. As a baker I was used to being on my feet all day. Sitting for ten interviews ironically had left me feeling stiffer than a shift in the kitchen.

  “There was no need. I could see his potential. He was an eager learner and a hard worker. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I knew that with time and practice he would improve. Look at him now. You wouldn’t even recognize him as the bumbling barista I hired.” She smiled. Her skin was naturally tanned from summer hikes with the Professor. Marriage had been good for her. The honey highlights in her short bob framed her face and gave her a healthy glow. Mom didn’t rattle easily. She had always possessed an internal calmness and strength. That had only deepened since the wedding.

  I had a hard time reconciling the Andy she was describing with the skilled barista I knew.

  “Maybe Andy needs a little reminder about how far he’s come.” Mom handed me Sequoia’s resume. “And reassurance that he will remain our lead barista until he decides to move on. Do you think we can afford to give him a raise? A small increase in compensation for his services training new staff, along with a new title.”

  “I like it. Maybe lead barista?”

  “He’s earned it.”

  Andy appeared at the top of the stairs. He held a box of pastries and bread. “Hey, Mrs. The Professor! I didn’t know you were down there.”

  “Shhh. Don’t tell.” Mom pressed her finger to her lips.

  Andy gave her a salute. “I’m heading out. Everything’s done up here. I boxed up the extra pastries. I’ll leave them on the counter, okay?”

  “Thanks, that would be appreciated.” Mom smiled. We had a practice of donating any extra baked goods to the community shelter.

  “What about the rest of the team?” I asked Mom when Andy was out of earshot. “Do you think we should give everyone a little raise?”

  She looked thoughtful. “Stephanie and Andy have been here the longest. Bethany just started and since she has some profit share I think she’s in a good position. Sterling has taken over quite a few kitchen duties. It might be a good idea to see if we can afford a little something more for him too.”

  “Let me run some numbers.” Torte had had a banner year. Sales were up by nearly fifty percent, thanks in large part to our growing wholesale accounts, custom wedding cake designs, and some high-end catering accounts (like Lance’s elaborate season-opening bash). Paired with the revenue we would be bringing in from Uva (the winery where I was a one-third owner) I thought we could probably swing a bump in pay to our existing staff. Not that the bakery business is extremely lucrative, but since Mom and Dad opened Torte they had been committed to paying their employees a livable wage with benefits like free food and drink, a share of tips, and flexible hours.

  I didn’t want to get over our heads, but we wouldn’t be where we were today without long hours and tremendous effort put in by our current staff. If things were changing, I wanted to find a way to make sure the changes were for the good.

  Chapter Four

  I put in a late night reviewing spreadsheets, looking over projected work in the months ahead, and budgeting for construction costs. We had received a grant to bring the basement up to code and ensure that it wouldn’t flood again, but the remainder of the expansion would be paid off through a long-term loan. Even with loan payments we were now able to produce so much more product and take on accounts that we would have had to turn down in our old kitchen that, at least in theory, small raises penciled out on paper.

  The next morning, I called the team together before we opened the doors for the morning rush. Andy passed around cups of French press with a dollop of homemade almond-infused whipping cream. I sliced into a layered egg and ham strata loaded with Italian bread crumbs, gouda cheese, fresh chives, sundried tomatoes, and red onions. I had arrived at Torte early to bake the special fluffy egg dish for my staff.

  “Can someone say food coma?” Bethany lifted her slice to her nose and inhaled. “I don’t think I even need to eat this. I just gained a pound smelling this wonderful eggy goodness.” She set her plate on the counter and began snapping pictures on her cell. “Is this going to be on the specials board today? Because I’m pretty sure the second I post a picture of this beauty we’re going to have a line around the block.”

  I smiled. “Yes. I have a strata supply waiting downstairs.”

  “Strata supply, nice one, boss.” Andy raised his coffee cup.

  “What’s the occasion?” Sterling asked. He studied my face. “Is this like our last meal or something?”

  “Or something.” I flicked his shoulder. “No. It’s the opposite. I wanted to take a minute to thank you profusely for your help and flexibility through this construction project. You guys are amazing.” The words caught in my throat. I hadn’t anticipated being emotional. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “This is a celebratory breakfast. The expansion is almost complete, and I think I’ve found three new hires that are going to make our lives easier.”

  I gauged their reactions. Stephanie, as usual, stared at her plate, not making eye contact. Bethany nodded enthusiastically. Sterling watched Andy, who tried to put on his game face. “This is a small token of my thanks. I’d like to meet with each of you individually this morning to talk about new roles that Mom and I have outlined. With new staff coming on, I’m going to be calling on the four of you for training and to take on some new responsibilities.”

  Sterling stabbed his strata. “Whatever you need, Jules. You know we have your back. It is going to be weird having a bunch of new people in here.”

  Everyone agreed.

  “True, but that’s all the more reason why I want you each to feel empowered. I’m going to be leaning on you to help train the new staff. And, I’m going to want your feedback on how the transition is going. If someone isn’t a match, I want to know that. The sooner the better.”

  “What’s the big deal?” Bethany asked. “I think it’s going to be great to get some more energy in here.”

  I shot her a look of thanks. I could always count on her for bringing a positive attitude.

  “Jules, it’s not like any of us are pissed. It’s just going be strange for a while. But we’re cool.” Sterling stared at me.

  “Thanks.” I placed three resumes on the counter. “These are the staff that we’ve chosen. They will be on a ninety-day probationary period. So again, if you feel like they aren’t working out—obviously after giving them a chance to get acclimated—it’s important that you come to me.”

  “We got it.” Sterling motioned for me to continue.

  Was I overthinking this?

  “Sequoia will be working the coffee counter with Andy. Marty will be downstairs in the kitchen. Marty is a retired professional baker. His specialty was bread, so I think he’ll be a great asset to the team, especially since you two prefer pastry work.” I addressed Bethany and Steph.

  They nodded.

  “Rosa is a native Spanish speaker. She’s going to be a fl
oater. I’ll have her work on catering accounts, corporate orders, and help with whatever is needed during the morning and noontime rush. I’m planning to start her on the pastry counter because I have the sense she’ll be really good with customers given her experience working at a bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Hey, what are you saying?” Andy pretended to stab himself in the heart.

  “I’m saying that you need extra hands up here. You can’t be running back and forth between crafting espressos and ringing up orders.”

  “Isn’t that what Sequoia is for?” Andy’s tone was light, but I knew there was more to his words.

  “Yes, but I see Sequoia keeping her focus on coffee production and not as much on customer interaction. That’s where you and Rosa will come in.”

  He shrugged. “Sure thing.”

  We finished our strata and French press. My inspirational pep talk hadn’t gone exactly as I had planned, but at least we could move forward. The team split up to start the morning prep. I called Andy into the office first. A fine layer of dust coated the desk and filing cabinet. I tried to wipe it with a towel, but that just illuminated patchy streaks on everything.

  “Sorry. It’s pretty dusty in here,” I said to Andy, motioning for him to sit in a folding chair.

  He pointed to his khaki shorts and T-shirt with a silhouette of the state of Oregon. In the bottom corner was a star pointing to Ashland’s position on the map. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to get dust on these. High fashion.”

  I smiled. “After our conversation yesterday, I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m good, boss. I’m always good.” His words didn’t match his demeanor. His right foot bounced on the floor as he spoke.

  “Funny. I mean, you’re okay with giving Sequoia a test run?”

  “Yeah. No problem.” His foot continued to bounce. Was he more upset than he was letting on?

  “Good. I have some other news. Mom and I discussed a promotion.”

  He sat up. “What?”